


Don't Wait Up

by moon__craters



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Marvel Universe, Miles Morales - Freeform, One Shot, Spider-Man - Freeform, aunt may - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 03:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20539124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon__craters/pseuds/moon__craters
Summary: After watching Spiderverse, one of the main questions on my mind was what happens when Peter B. Parker shows up on Mary Jane Watson's doorstep?  Well, this is what I think happened.Peter tries to win MJ back, I mean, what more could anyone want??





	Don't Wait Up

The fading evening light filters through the small kitchen window at the back of the house. Mary Jane Watson stands on aching feet to reluctantly finish the stack of dishes that has been piling up in the sink for the past week. A long sigh passes her lips as she dips her sponge back into the soapy water, the hot water stinging her fingers slightly. Her eyes roam around the room, taking in the extent of the mess. Has she really been letting herself go this far? 

As the dishes are left to dry on the counter, she tidies the table, recycling month-old junk mail and running the sponge across the once shiny wood. There’s a small pile of papers and textbooks at the far side of the table. Mary Jane can hardly bear to look at them. It’s been months since she went to her classes. Once, that had been the fresh excitement in her life. She couldn’t wait to go back to school and study again. She had even dared to hope it would help fix her relationship with Peter. Maybe if she was gone almost as often as he was, she could begin to understand. But it only caused them to communicate even less than they already did. Since they split up, she hadn’t even thought about going back. Was it time, maybe, to let go and move on?

The mere thought hurts her chest and tears spring to her eyes. She always thought he was the one, and they would grow old together. She can’t even imagine finding another man to start a family with. Unconsciously, she slips her hand into her pocket for her cigarette packet. The pain in her chest spikes. She had given up smoking long ago, but here she is again. What would Peter say? It’s all Mary Jane can do to stay upright and not sink to the floor in tears. 

With a long shaking breath, she replaces the pack back into her pocket, and moves on to clean the living room. The longer she cleans, the clearer her head feels, and soon she feels almost like her old self again. She dusts and tidies, throwing out old trash and straightening pillows. She finishes and moves towards the shades to close them. Her hand is on the chord when movement outside catches her eye. The sun has almost finished setting, but she can make out someone, a man, walking slowly by her house. He seems awfully interested in it, his head turned towards her front door. You don’t live years with Spider-Man and not learn how to recognize a potential dangerous situation. Mary Jane closes the blinds and leaves the room, double checking the lock on the door with a glance, and grabs the crowbar she’s taken to leaving in the entryway. She leans against the wall at an angle for lookout, but concealed from anyone outside. 

She watches a shadow grow larger as the man steps up to her door. She tightens her grip, but leans forward a shade to see his face. The crowbar slips from her fingers and clatters to the floor, but she barely hears it. Her feet are rooted in place. The scruff growing on his chin and down his neck is new, but his eyes are the same. They hold the same sadness that Mary Jane had grown used to seeing, but now something new: a deepness of some sort. She watches him reach up and rub a hand over his face before ringing her doorbell. The sound jolts her, even though she knew it was coming. She looks down at her outfit; at least she’s not wearing pajamas. She forces herself to step up to the door, and he straightens when he sees her shadow. She pauses with her hand on the knob. His lips mouth, “please,” probably more for himself than her. She runs a hand through her hair once, then swings the door open.

“Hi,” is all she can say, with him right in front of her. 

“MJ,” he breathes. He holds up a bouquet of flowers and smiles crookedly, hopefully.

“Peter,” she replies, just as breathless, receiving the bouquet. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“No, I did. Listen, can we talk?” 

Sure, they could talk. They tried that a million times, and every time it ended in a fight.

Mary Jane opens her mouth to say, “haven’t we tried that already?” but the words die on her lips when she looks up into his face. He seems different. Could he really be?

“I’m not asking for anything. This is just a talk, nothing more. You don’t have to agree to anything,” he says gently, seeing her hesitation. 

“Of course,” she opens the door wider. “Excuse me for not inviting you in earlier.” She steps aside and leads him into her living room.

“This is, uh, a nice place you’ve got,” he comments, sitting gingerly on the edge of a couch cushion. His pressed grey suit wrinkles in all the right spots and leaves Mary Jane wondering to what extent he planned the details of this visit. She glances down again at her work clothes, rumpled from the day’s events.

“Thank you,” she says quickly, realizing he was waiting for her to speak. “Would you like something to drink?” she adds.

“You don’t have to be so formal, MJ. You don’t owe me anything. And please, sit down.”

She settles in a chair opposite him. Silence fills the air as they stare at each other. Peter exhales loudly, and the sound sparks something in her belly. It is such a familiar sound, and it has been so long since she heard it.

“I know you’re wondering why I’m here, and I’m not here to talk about the things we always argue about. Like you, I’m tired of rehashing and running in circles.”

She nods.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Okay, something happened to me. Something happened, and I can’t go back to the way I was before. I don’t want to keep messing things up. I messed stuff up with you, and I know I hurt you. And I’m so sorry MJ, and I know that doesn’t fix anything. You don’t have to say or do anything, but I had to tell you. I still care about you, even if we aren’t together.” The words come out in a rush, and they stun her. She shakes her head. Just an hour ago, she had been considering trying to move on, and now this. 

“You can’t just come here and say that,” she feels herself growing hot. “What does that mean now? How long has it been, Peter? Do you know how long I waited for something like this? It’s not fair! It’s not fair to me!”

His brow furrows. “I know, I know. I am so sorry. You can pretend this never happened. I just had to tell you.” He stands and turns towards the door. “Thank you for letting me in.”

She watches him leave, the feeling in the pit of her stomach building. She can’t tell if it’s anger or something else. His hand is on the knob before she stands as well.

“No.” The word that comes out surprises both of them. Peter pauses, his brown eyes searching hers. They stay like that for too long. Mary Jane doesn’t know what she wants, but suddenly she doesn’t want him to leave, and he’s still not making a move to open the door. 

“Coffee?” she offers weakly. He smiles slowly, and her stomach turns. Stop it, she tells herself. She can’t get swept up in him again. They had tried over and over to make it work, but their long term goals didn’t align. There was no reason that this meeting would change anything.

He follows her to the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over all of her things, making her feel strangely vulnerable. As she opens the cabinet to grab two mugs, she notices her shaking hands. Why did she invite him further into her home? Why was she doing this to herself again? But every time she turned to look at him, there was that feeling again. 

“Real nice place,” he comments again. She presses a cup of steaming coffee into his hands, avoiding his eyes, then gestures to her freshly cleaned kitchen table. They sit down opposite each other, taking their first sip at the same exact time. The barrier Mary Jane is trying to maintain is slowly breaking down with each passing second.  
“What happened to you?” she asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

Peter takes a dramatic breath, sets his coffee down, and glances to either side. She almost rolls her eyes, but she has missed this too much. A smile tugs on her lips, so she takes another sip of her drink. 

“So there I was, it was just another usual day. Then this weird thing happened. Basically this portal opened, and I was transported to a parallel universe— another New York— and I met this kid who was the new Spider-Man of his dimension and taught him stuff, and we ended up saving his city.” Peter leans into his chair, tilts his head back, and stares at her through hooded eyes, a slight smile on his lips, obviously proud of what he has done. 

Mary Jane raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I couldn’t make this up,” he says, folding his arms. There’s clearly more to his story than he’s letting on, if it impacted him so deeply. But she knows this is the way he acts. He used to come home covered in cuts and bruises, and when she asked what happened, he’d tell it as funny story to help her not worry. 

He seems to know what she’s thinking, and he continues, “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I really wasn’t cut out to be a mentor, but this kid needed me.” He sighs loudly. “MJ, when we… well, when we split, I really wasn’t doing good. I was hurt, but more upset because I know I hurt you badly, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Tears spring to her eyes at the memories being dug up. One of the hardest things she’s ever done is carry on after everything that happened. 

Peter drops his hand on the table, as if to reach out and comfort her, but he stays on his side. “I’d forgotten who I was. I stopped being a hero, and I almost didn’t remember how anymore. I’ve been really selfish.” His hand inches across the table. She stares at it through blurry eyes, and in the moment, there’s nothing she wants more than to take it. She stands abruptly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I get it, I’m sorry,” he says, standing also. He places his cup in the sink, then heads to the door. She just watches him go. He stops once again, turns back to say, “I love you.”

And then he’s gone.

…

In the days that follow, Mary Jane cycles through a million different feelings. How dare he? How dare he show up like that? Why did she let him in? Why did she turn him away? How could she do that? But nothing will ever change, she tells herself. Will it?

She finds herself staring at the flowers he left. He remembered how much she loved flowers, but he stopped bringing them to her a few years into their marriage. What did it mean? Her gaze keeps slipping to the phone on the small table behind them, so she moves the flowers all around her house, trying to get herself to stop thinking about him. 

Nothing works, and she spends her nights staring at the ceiling and at the empty spot beside her in bed. No matter how many times she tells herself to stop it, her heart won’t stop. She has missed him so much. If there’s even a tiny chance, does she want to give that up?

Friday morning, a week after the visit, she picks up the phone. She has spent all night going over it in her mind, but deep down, she knew all along that she would call. She dials his number, her heart racing. She listens to it ring. Now she’s even more scared that he won’t pick up. She didn’t plan for that possibility. 

“Hey, it’s Peter. I’m not around right now. I’ll call you back.” 

She almost loses her nerve, but he’ll see that he missed her call, so she has to follow through.

“Hey, it’s MJ.” Deep breath. Pause. “I was wondering if we could talk again. Maybe go get a coffee.” Her heart is pounding so loudly in her ears that she can’t even hear herself speaking. And she probably sounds weird. “I’m free this weekend. Catch you later.”

It takes her several minutes until she feels well enough to drive to work.

What if he doesn’t call back? is the only question on her mind the entire day. She drinks two coffees and has to escape for a smoke break around noon. It’s only on her way home that she considers another possibility and freezes. What if he does?  
As soon as she gets in the door, she drops her purse and keys onto the floor with a loud crack as they hit the tile floor. She practically flies to the phone. No messages. No messages?

Had she been imagining it? That spark between them when he reached across the table? Misinterpreting the signs? But she knew Peter, didn’t she?

“Come on, come on,” she says aloud to herself. She picks up her purse and keys and puts them away properly. She cooks herself a nice dinner, taking her time to slice the onion, trying to enjoy it. She lights a candle in her bedroom and takes a bath, pretending the soap bubbles are her problems, floating away. She washes her hair and puts her favorite fuzzy robe on. You’re okay, she tells herself over and over. You’re okay. 

She’s curled up on her bed with a good book when the phone rings. She jumps, losing her place. The book tumbles to the floor, but she’s already out of the room. 

“Hello?” she answers, trying not to sound breathless.

“MJ! Hope I’m not calling too late,” Peter says. The sound of his voice makes her knees weak. She glances at the clock on the stove. It’s only nine pm. 

“Not at all! How are you?” She cringes at herself, making conversation instead of talking about why she called in the first place.

“Doin’ okay. And yourself?”

“Fine,” she lies. Oh, if only he knew.

“So about this weekend,” he hedges. She swallows. “That little coffee shop down by the corner of Central Park okay by you? They don’t have that, in uh, other New York.”

“Yes, fine, yes, good,” she babbles, inwardly cursing herself with every word that leaves her mouth.

“Tomorrow, ten o’clock?”

“Sounds good.”

“See you,” he ends the call, and she’s left in her dark kitchen with hope blossoming in her chest.

…

Mary Jane opens her car door and steps out into the crisp fall air. A chill goes down her neck that has nothing to do with the weather. She makes her way slowly to the tiny coffee establishment, forcing herself to breathe deeply. This is Peter. It’s Peter. What used to be the source of her comfort is now the source of her anxiety.  
The bell on the door tingles cheerfully as she sweeps into the shop, scanning for a mess of brown hair. She spots him in the corner of the shop, with his back to her, and she crosses the floor, walking a little quicker than usual. She scoops her skirt forward as she takes a seat across from him. He looks up with a look in his eye that makes her blush.

“Wow, you look great.”

He does too, in a nicely ironed button down shirt and a fresh shave. She nods. “You, too.”

He smiles and pushes a cup of coffee towards her that she hadn’t even noticed before. She takes a small sip; he’s had it made perfectly. He wraps his hand around his own cup. “Thanks for meeting me. It means a lot.”

“No problem. It was me who called you,” she laughs. Silence follows, but it’s not awkward like last week. It feels familiar, like sitting with an old friend. They sip their coffees and look out the window, watching people walking in the park. Sentences flit through Mary Jane’s head, but she doesn’t say anything aloud. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment. And when she looks at Peter, she knows he’s thinking the same thing.

He tilts his head back, draining the last drop of his coffee. He slaps his hands on his thighs lightly and exhales. “Well,” he says. “Are you up for a walk?”

“Sure!” She doesn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she doesn’t want to leave yet. They haven’t even done any talking yet.

They exit the shop and start a walking trail in the park, strolling at a leisurely pace. When a bicyclist calls out, “On your left!” Mary Jane steps closer to Peter, and she doesn’t move away after he’s gone.

“Okay,” she begins. “Can we just speak honestly? You said you’re done with games, and I am too.”

Peter stops walking to face her. “Yes, that’s what I was trying to do when I came to see you last week.”

“I know. Sorry I got scared.”

“No, you have every right to everything you feel. You owe me nothing after everything that has happened.”

“Can I ask you something?” she says, preparing the question that has been circling her head for the past week.

“Anything.”

“Hey, if you guys aren’t gonna walk, get off the trail!” an older man yells at them, and Mary Jane turns to see a string of people walking around her and Peter. She didn’t notice. 

“Sorry!” she calls as they leave to find a bench.

“Yes?” Peter asks the moment they sit down.

“What does this mean? What does all of this mean? Why did you come see me again to say sorry?”

“That’s more than one question,” he smirks.

“Peter, I’m serious!” She swats his knee.

“It means I realized a lot of stuff and I had to tell you! I don’t know, MJ. It was the craziest thing, in the other New York. Aunt May was there—you were there!”

“I was there?” she asks, stunned. Of course, that would have to make sense.

“Yeah! And seeing you, and, and, I don’t know.” He drops his head and rubs his temple. “I just missed you so freaking much. And seeing you, and you didn’t know me. It was a lot.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she says quietly, raising a hand to rub his back like she might’ve years ago. She drops it before she touches him, and he doesn’t notice.

“MJ, what happened to us? We were this fairytale love story! What went wrong?”

She bites her tongue as argument after argument flash though her head. But she knows what he means. 

“It’s hard,” she says, her voice thick. “When you don’t want the same things.”

He looks at her sorrowfully, and maybe she’s imagining it, but his eyes look wet. Peter never cried. He looks down at her hand on her lap. She edges it a little closer, giving him permission. He covers it with his hand, and warmth creeps up her wrist and arm.

“I am so sorry for everything. I didn’t treat you right, I left you alone so much, I didn’t prioritize our relationship—our family!” He says desperately, clutching her hand a little.

Our family. So he did think about that. What is he saying?

She shakes her head. “Peter,” she tries to say more, but that’s all that comes out.  
“I know it’s too little too late, but I don’t know what else to do.” He takes his other hand and rakes it through his hair, messing up the front so the long pieces hang down into his face. 

“I don’t know what to do either,” she admits. “Where do we go from here?”

They both sit in silence for a long moment, but they keep their hands clasped. Mary Jane can feel his fingers tightening around hers occasionally, as if he’s trying to communicate something. She doesn’t know what it is, but it makes her want to smile.

“Let me take you to dinner,” Peter says, as if he suddenly figured out the answer to her question. 

She does smile this time. “You don’t have to try to win me over like we’re in high school.”

He laughs and squeezes her hand again. “Maybe I do.” He stands and pulls her up with him. “Tuesday night?”

She nods, still smiling.

“Wear something nice, I’ll pick you up.”

They start walking back along the path, staying close with her hand looped through his arm. He asks about work, and they chat pleasantly as he walks her back to her car. Just before she opens her door, she reaches both arms around him and they embrace. She tries not to, but she breathes him in. His smell, his shampoo, his laundry detergent. She feels him doing the same, and she’s glad she remembered to wear perfume. 

It’s hard to keep a smile off her face the whole way home.

…

Tuesday night arrives too slowly but also too quickly at the same time. Mary Jane spends the work day not really working, and instead daydreams about what she’ll wear or what they’ll talk about. She checks her phone multiple times an hour, but she doesn’t receive any messages from Peter. 

Once home, she showers again and applies lotion to her whole body. Then she takes her time doing her makeup and curling the ends of her shoulder length red hair. She has just finished putting her simple jewelry on and spraying her favorite perfume onto her wrists when the doorbell rings. Mary Jane smiles, picking up her shoes on the way downstairs. She slides her heels on and throws open the door.

“Wow, you look amazing,” is the first thing Peter says, looking her up and down.  
She blushes. She feels almost self conscious in her short black dress, but now she’s glad she wore it. She can’t keep her eyes off him either, in his sharp black suit and tie. With a warm smile on his face, he hands her a small box.

“What’s this?” she asks, lifting the lid. Her breath catches. “Peter..”

“Do you like it?”

She slides the delicate chain out of the box and holds her wrist out to him. “I love it. Thank you.”

He fastens it, his fingers lingering a little on her skin. “Shall we?” He holds his arm out to her, and she takes it, locking the door behind her on their way out.

She can’t keep a smile off her face as she sees his little beat-up Honda waiting out on the street for them. He notices and says, “Hey, alright, don’t make fun! Yes, I still have this car.”

“Oh, no disrespect!” she laughs, thankful for the joking banter. It was easier than being serious and facing their problems. Besides, she’d missed this side of him. “I still have the red one,” she says, referring to the car Peter bought her years before they split.

“It’s still chugging along, eh?” He opens the door for her and shoves a few things into the backseat. It looks like shoes, a few bags, and other junk. “Yeah, I should’ve cleaned this out better, but you already know the real me.”

She used to get so upset when he didn’t clean up, but right now, she finds it very endearing. 

They spend the short drive continuing their friendly conversation with the low hum of the radio in the background. When they arrive, Mary Jane notices how extremely fancy and romantic the restaurant is, with low lighting and dressed-up waiters wandering around with bottles of champagne in their hands. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Parker,” the hostess greets them and gestures for them to follow her.  
Mary Jane whips her head around at Peter, who’s smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mouths, but he keeps smiling. She ignores it and the fluttering feeling in her stomach.

“How long did it take you to get this reservation?” she asks when they’re seated with tall glasses of bubbling champagne and menus. 

Peter leans back against his chair. “Let’s just say, being Spider-Man has its perks.” She rolls her eyes. He always knew how to get what he wanted without revealing himself. 

“Tell me more about the other New York,” she says, skimming the menu, her eyes going huge when she takes in the pricing. A waiter comes over and puts a basket of bread on the table and steaming bowls of soup in front of them.

“The chef’s special: duck soup,” he says with an elegant accent and a wink at Peter. Mary Jane raises the spoon to her lips and almost sighs at the way the meat melts in her mouth and the broth slides down her throat. She expects Peter to be making fun of her, but she looks across the table to see him having the same reaction. The waiter whisks away, satisfied.

“Forget the meal, I’ll have ten bowls of this!” Peter mumbles and slurps the broth loudly, already down to the last few spoonfuls. “Right, New York.” He grabs a roll and tears into it with his fingers. “So Peter Parker from their universe had just died, and this kid Miles had just gotten his Spidey powers.”

“Their Peter Parker died?” she asks, alarmed. “Did he look like you?”

“Huh?” He stuffs the rest of the roll into his mouth. “Oh, yeah.” He adds under his breath, “Exactly.”

“So what did you have to do?”

“Uh, this huge guy built a dimensional collider and so we had to break into the lab and steal the information to make a goober to override the system, and I taught the kid how to swing. Then we met more Spider-people at Aunt May’s. We escaped from the bad guys, and then we escaped again, and again. And then Miles stepped up to the plate just like I knew he would, and he helped us all get home!”

She squints in confusion. “More Spider-people? How many? How many dimensions are there?”

“I have no idea. And six, not counting the other Peter Parker who died before I got there.”

“Fascinating!”

“Anything happen here while I was gone?” He asks, going for another roll.

“Nobody even knew you were gone, as far as I know,” she says a little dryly. She’s finished her soup by now, and is looking over the menu again.

“Nah,” he waves it out of her hands. “We’re having the chef’s special.”

“Do you even have money for this?” she whispers suspiciously. 

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it, I got this.”

She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She tips her glass back and drains the last of the champagne. She has barely set it down before another waiter comes from behind her and fills it back up. Peter is almost done with his second glass. She asks him more about the other Spider-people, and he has the most to say about Miles. He can’t stop telling stories about him, and the way he’s talking, it sounds like he’s showing him off the way parents show off their kids’ achievements. If Mary Jane didn’t know better, she’d think he’s proud of him. Peter doesn’t even like kids.

“You should’ve seen him, MJ. There I was in Doc Ock’s grasp, and he comes swinging in out of nowhere. He was doing it! Invisibility on command.” He shakes his head, smiling. The waiter returns with platters of lobster in a rich sauce on a bed of stuffing and vegetables. Mary Jane’s mouth waters. Their glasses are refilled, and the waiter bows out again.

There’s quite a bit of silence as she and Peter dig into their dishes, commenting only on how amazing everything tastes. 

“Okay, Peter.” Mary Jane spears a vegetable onto her fork. “What’s the real reason for this? Let’s get to the point.”

He pauses with a bite halfway to his open mouth. He snaps it shut and puts his fork down. He looks up and takes a deep breath. When his eyes return to hers, they’re serious and intense.

“I love you MJ. I can’t change what I already did, what already happened, but I can do something about right now and the future.”

“What are you going to do?” She finds herself asking. As much as she wants to swept away by him again, they can’t repeat history.

“I’m going to do better by you, by everyone. I’m gonna be accountable for my actions and for how I hurt you.”

“Peter, thank you, but I still don’t know how that will...work out.” She can’t look at him while she speaks. If she does, she might just give into him. “We both know what was the real issue,” she whispers, tears beginning to prick in her eyes. The candlelight on the tables and fairy lights strung along the ceiling turn into blurry stars as she blinks hard. He isn’t saying anything, so she glances at him. He has a funny look on his face. 

“What are—oh.” Her heart leaps. “Peter, are you..?”

He keeps staring at her with a small smile that tips up farther on one side. A tear falls on her face, for the opposite reason she started crying. Their hands reach across the table for each other, pushing aside their mostly empty plates. She forgets they’re still at the restaurant until the waiter reappears, taking their plates and setting down a chocolate lava cake with ice cream scoops. He produces two long handled spoons and rests them on the table along with the check. They break out of their trance, and Mary Jane wipes her face as Peter hands her one of the spoons. He slides his card into the bill folder and hands it back to the waiter.

They dip their spoons into the cake and watch the warm chocolate spill out and coat the melting ice cream. 

“Thank you! My favorite,” Mary Jane cooes, taking the first luxurious bite.

“I know,” he says, smiling. He watches her eat, and the way he’s looking at her makes her feel warm inside. She reaches her feet forward under the table to bump his, and they both laugh. 

Peter stiffens suddenly, and his head snaps to the side, staring intently out the window. His eyes are glazed over, but intensely focused. She knows instantly what’s wrong. Spidey sense. She can practically see him tingling. He stands up and tugs a button loose on his shirt. A familiar red shows through.

The building across the street explodes with a bang and a large cloud of dust and smoke. Mary Jane instinctively looks toward the noise with the rest of the restaurant. When she looks back a split second later, Peter is gone, and Spider-Man stands in his place. He’s just finished pulling the mask over his head.

“Mary Jane,” he says lowly, reaching out. Everyone else is still watching the window and standing up, startled, grabbing their purses and suit jackets.

She waits for the annoyance to come, prickling and crawling along her skin like a million spiders, but nothing comes. She smiles slightly. “Go.”

“Don’t wait up.” He shoots out a web and swings away towards the destruction. “I love you!”

Despite herself, she lets out a small laugh. She always waits up for him.

The crowd is surging towards the door and running down the street to their cars. She grabs the keys Peter left for her on the table, and follows them outside to his car. Before she turns down the block, she squints against the dust and peers into the broken building. She can just make out two figures fighting, one of them sticking to a wall high up, then leaping off as it crumbles, swinging on a web. The familiar sickening worry churns in her stomach. People press her from behind, and she lets them sweep her down the street to the little grey Honda.

…

Eleven o’clock comes and goes. Twelve o’clock. One o’clock. One-thirty. Mary Jane sits at home, restless. Is everything okay? He’ll call when he can, she knows he will. Also, she has his car. She has changed into her pajamas and is sitting in her bed, but she knows sleep won’t come. Not until she knows he’s safe. She dares to let herself dream of all the things she has been suppressing for years. Is it possible for everything to work out? She used to think she could only have one happiness: Peter or a family. Can she have both? 

Well, he didn’t exactly say it. What if she had been wrongly assuming what he meant? No, she knew Peter.

She picks up a book. She sets it down and turns the light off. She lays down and closes her eyes, but they don’t stay closed. She stares at the clock instead, watching the glowing red numbers change slowly, until it’s all she can see. 

At one fifty-six, Mary Jane hears a clink on her bedroom window. She instantly sits up, drawing the sheet to her chest. She blinks rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark after staring at the clock for so long. She hears it again, and then a thump. A web attaches to her window, and she breathes out a sigh of relief.

The window slides open, and Spider-Man leaps into her room silently. He scans the room, and she flips her bedside lamp on. He freezes.

“MJ! You’re still up?” he asks nonchalantly.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re out fighting,” she says, worry making her voice sound harsh.

He pulls his mask off, ruffling his hair as it comes off. He tries to pat it down, but it stands up straight. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m okay, I promise.”

“What happened?”

“Some guy set off an explosive, I think to create a diversion of some sort. That’s the only thing that makes sense because there was nothing of value in that building. I caught him and handed him over to the police, but I’ll have to keep an eye out for any of his partners creeping around the city.”

She nods, then gestures to the end of her bed. He collapses onto it gratefully, groaning lowly.

“I didn’t mean to sound mad,” she says quietly. “I just worry.”

A smile appears on his face at that, and he sits up. “We never got to finish our conversation at the restaurant.”

“Oh. What else were you going to say?” She ignores the clock switching to two o’clock, knowing she still has work tomorrow, but wanting to stay in this moment with Peter. 

“That I love you.”

“You did say that,” she says shyly, sliding closer to him. 

“That I want to try again.”

“Try what?”

“Us.” His eyes are soft and vulnerable.

“Peter, you know I want to be with you. But we both agreed that it was for the best because we—”

“I want that. I want a family with you.”

Her mouth falls open a little. “What changed your mind?” she asks, her heart quickening.

“You.”

“It was Miles, wasn’t it?”

“What? No, no! Maybe a little,” he says sheepishly, then continues seriously. “That whole experience just helped me along. It was mostly you.” He moves closer, leaning in until she can smell him. He smells like wind, nighttime, New York City, and Peter. “What do you say? You can kick me out. You don’t have to say yes.”

Her lips part and her breathing speeds up. “Yes.”

“Yes?” He reaches out and touches her arm, sending shivers down her spine. He pulls back and stares into her eyes with raised brows, asking for permission.

She nods and raises her face to his. Both of his hands come up to cup her face, his fingers stroking the back of her neck. Gently, he presses his lips to hers once. “I love you.”

“I love you, Peter.” She rises to her knees and kisses him, knotting her fingers in his hair. He pulls at her waist until she’s sitting in his lap as their kiss deepens. He feels like coming home, like she’s been waiting for this feeling all her life. It’s that much sweeter because they had to work for it. Being apart had its purpose, but it was time to be together again, just how they were always meant to be. 

Still holding onto her, Peter flips them over, laying her down without breaking the kiss. Mary Jane reaches up and turns the lamp off.


End file.
